God Help the Outcasts
by Gogirl
Summary: For anyone who has ever felt different from everyone else, for anyone that sometimes feels completely alone... this songfic is for you. R/R.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. The song, "God Help The Outcasts" belongs to "The Hunchback of Notre Dame", except one lyric is slightly altered to fit the story. None of this stuff is mine. Anyway, this is a little songfic I came up with. It's basically about a certain girl who, thanks to the most horrible people it has been in her misfortune to know, thinks that she doesn't belong anywhere. That and a few other things... Who is she and what does this have to do with Harry Potter? Read and find out! I hope you like this and that nobody takes any offense to it. 

  
  


God Help The Outcasts by Gogirl

  
  


It was a late Sunday afternoon, in the early month of July. The old church was deserted, except for a few people coming in to pray or other things. In one pew, a couple of elderly ladies were murmuring the Rosary.

  
  


A young girl of thirteen was waiting outside the vicar's door. She was at the church for two things: to confess and for someone to talk to. There was something troubling her ever since she had come home for the summer holidays. She didn't really know who to turn to; her parents wouldn't understand, the friends that she had at all wouldn't understand... so maybe He would understand...

  
  


The door opened and a middle aged man stepped out. It was her turn. Taking a deep breath, she walked in, closed the door behind her, and knelt down, the screen shielding her from the vicar's view.

  
  


"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," she began, making the Sign of the Cross. "It has been a year since my last confession." She paused, wondering how exactly to put her problem into words. She couldn't say two little and she couldn't say too much. There was one thing about her in particular that she wanted to stay secret.

  
  


"I have an elder sister and.... I hate her. I'm sorry, I know that is horribly wrong to hate your own flesh and blood, but I can't help it. She does so many horrible things to me... of course, she isn't the first one to do so... her friends help her do it... although not all of them do the same reasons..." 

  
  


"Go on," the vicar said softly from behind the screen, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

  
  


"You see, Father... I'm different. Not different as in I like different things from everyone else, but different as in... different. There's no other way of putting it. I *do* have friends, and wonderful ones," she added earnestly. "but I don't think they really understand my problem. I don't think they have the slightest idea of what it's like to never belong anywhere. My parents love me, of course, but somehow I don't think I belong there with my sister around. She sees me for what I really am... a freak." She said the word "freak" as though the very word was causing her the pain. 

  
  


"And my school isn't any better. Some of the students tease me because I'm what they call a 'know-it-all'. So I get good marks in all of my classes. So what? Two of my friends get good marks and they're still popular, though that may be due to the fact that everyone thinks they're funny... and that one of them is a great athlete.... Aside from 'know-it-all', another name some of the students call me is-- I can't really say it because I'm in church; it's really foul....

  
  


"Maybe the reason they call me that is because most of the time I'm concentrating on studying. The truth is, I do this because I want my parents to be proud of me. They already seem proud of me... 'Our daughter is on top of all her classes... We sure are proud to have such a talented girl...' I just don't want to let them down, Father. That's about it."

  
  


"Child, do you really feel that you're the only one who has ever felt like this?" the vicar asked. "Many sons and daughters feel as though they are different and alone in the world. Many feel that they need to please their parents all their lives. Surely you know people at your school who feel like they are different?"

  
  


"I may know a few," said the girl after thinking very hard on the subject. "Actually, sometimes I wish that people wouldn't judge others by their differences, no matter how small they may be."

  
  


"You cannot change the ways of the world by yourself, child."

  
  


"No one *out there* is going to help me, that's for sure."

  
  


"Well... maybe there's someone *in here* who can. If you ever feel as though you are completely alone, you know that the Lord will be there."

  
  


After she had finished Confession, the girl walked out the vicar's door and stood still in the middle of the church, looking around at everything. She had a long history with this church. This was where her mother and father had gotten married. Both she and her sister were baptized here. When she was younger, the whole family would go here every Sunday for mass....

  
  


What was so different about the girl was that she was a witch. A witch. The whole magic powers, wands, robes, pointy hat deal. A witch that attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with many other young wizards and witches. Nobody else in her family was magic; they were all Muggles (the wizarding world's word for non-magic people). As a very small child, she used to read "fairy tales", most of which included an evil, ugly old witch who preformed terrible magic spells to people. While in truth, not all witches and wizards were evil.

  
  


She didn't even look like the ridiculous pictures of fairy tale witches. She had lank hair, and a tall, lean body. Every person that she met in the wizarding world always remarked that she had vivid, pretty eyes, but she never really believed it.

  
  


Perhaps it was due to the fact that she had a low self-esteem about herself. The Slytherins at Hogwarts always called her a Mudblood for having non-magic parents, and other horrible names that hurt her. Her friends told her not to let them get to her, but even though they were kind, she knew that they didn't know how she felt. None of them were Muggle-born.

  
  


Oh listen to me, the girl chided herself. I'm acting selfish! The vicar was right; there are loads of people I know who get tormented for being different. Indeed there was. One of her friends was picked on by bullies because he wasn't the type to stand up for himself. Another one of them felt different because he was something that almost everyone feared...

  
  


Then there was Hagrid, the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. He was half-giant. A lot of witches and wizards despised and feared the giants, but Hagrid was practically harmless... well, other than the fact that he had a liking for dangerous creatures.

  
  


She walked over to a corner where a statue of the Virgin Mary and the Holy Child stood, surrounded by candles. She knelt down in front of it and being to sing very softly so that the few other people in the other church couldn't hear her. Her friends always said that she had a beautiful singing voice, but she disagreed. Singing was just something she did to express her feelings, and the song that she began to sing definitely express the emotions she felt right now...

  
  


"I don't know if You can hear me,

Or if You're even there.

I don't know if You will listen

To a witch's prayer.

Yes, I know I'm just an outcast,

I shouldn't speak to You.

Still, I see your face and wonder:

Were You once an outcast too?"

  
  


The girl sighed and gazed at the statue. She would never understand why people were always tormented because of insipid differences. It was always one of the many mysteries of life, according to her. 

  
  


"God help the outcasts,

Hungry since birth.

Show them the mercy

They don't find on Earth.

God help my people,

We look to You still.

God help the outcasts,

Or nobody will...."

  
  


She stood up and hid herself in the shadows. Head resting on her knees, she observed the random people who came up to the statue and knelt in front of it. Every know and then, she could catch fragments of what they were saying.

  
  


"I ask for wealth..."

  
  


"I ask for fame..."

  
  


"I ask for glory to shine on my name..."

  
  


"I ask for love

I can possess..."

  
  


"I ask for God and His angels to bless me...."

  
  


After a while, when the church had been completely deserted, the girl emerged from her hiding place, knelt again in front of the statue. Come to think of it, she mused to herself. I have parents who love me for who I am and friends who care about me. Compared to that, it's no big deal if I get made fun of. I should consider myself lucky; not everyone has it as good as I got.

  
  


Staring at the face of the statue, she whispered a final verse to the song:

  
  


"I ask for nothing,

I can get by.

But I know so many,

Less lucky than I.

Please help my people,

The poor and downtrod,

I thought we all were

The children of God..."

She slowly got up and went towards the door, ready to go back home. She took one last look at the statue.

  
  


"God help the outcasts..."

  
  


The girl called Lily Evans stared at the church, praying that the people tormented because they were different would find peace, sighed, and walked out the door.

  
  


"The children of God...."

  
  


***

Author's Note: Okay, I hope this story was good. I apologize if it was the slightest bit corny. It's just that I'm one of those people that sometimes feel like an outcast, though I have good friends. This may or not be considered a prequel to one of my previous stories, "Ghost". (If you don't know what I'm talking about, you may want to read it, if you want.)

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  



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